


So We Have Some Issues...

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: Iron Squib and Other Magical Tales [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Magical Portraits, Mental Health Mentions, Pre-Age of Ultron, Some Fluff, friendships, mild politics, other MCU characters - Freeform, relationship troubles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: After Harry has toppled the ICW and earned his freedom from fighting for the wizarding world, civilian.. well, mostly civilian life takes some getting used to. As does trying to figure out where his and Steve's relationship stands without the team (mostly Tony) finding out there's even a relationship to begin with. It's not easy, but somehow they'll muddle through.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts (mentioned)
Series: Iron Squib and Other Magical Tales [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1084449
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	So We Have Some Issues...

**Author's Note:**

> TIMELINE CHANGE - This is where I start messing with the MCU timeline just a bit. At the end, with Steve being called out for the avengers to assemble to collect Loki's scepter, it SHOULD be taking place in Mid-Late May 2015, but with everything I wanted to happen, that just couldn't work in the timeframe available. So I've got that taking place closer to Mid-Late June 2015.
> 
> \-----------
> 
> This took so long because it was like pulling teeth to get the story where I wanted it. I re-wrote this thing so many times just... ugh. Anyway, I hope you like it. It's a lot shorter than most versions because the chunk I took out just didn't mesh well, but I may re-use some of it in a later story of the series.
> 
> Also, rated M because I'd rather be safe than sorry and Harry touched himself.

Despite the fact that it was Harry's apartment in (one) of Harry's names, Steve found it surprisingly easy to call the place home. Strip away the modern touches, the decent paint job, and the updated kitchen - it was still very much the same apartment he had lived in so long ago. Harry's room was, as it had been in the 40s, Bucky's old room. Steve's room was.... Steve's room. Though done up a lot nicer with a larger and more comfortable bed.

It took a week or so before the two men had been able to acclimate to the changes in their individual routines. Somewhat. Be comfortable in one another's space again.

But there was still the elephant in the room.

With everything that had happened, with all the lies and deceit, where did they go from there? The change in their friendship – to an actual relationship – was so new when Harry had gone MIA and he found out that Bucky was alive... they never had the chance to really work out where it was going. If it was going anywhere. And then he'd come back and they were tracking down Bucky with Sam and yeah they had some time to themselves occasionally but they weren't the same men who stood in the kitchen of that same apartment at New Year's and Steve was just so damn frustrated and confused.

And he was sure Harry was too.

He could see it with all the aborted attempts to get closer and the flushed and frustrated expressions on the man's face when it happened.

When August started to roll into September, they were having an argument over something incredibly dumb that Tony, Hermione, and Bruce had all come up with and Harry had finally had enough.

He slammed down his teacup, denting the wood of his kitchen table and sloshing the slightly sweetened dark liquid out of the now cracked cup, and stormed into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the framed photos from the mantle between the two bedroom doors.

Knowing Harry's temper, Steve didn't think it wise to approach the door until the man had time to calm down.

Steve cleaned up their meal, then Harry's mess from the teacup. He washed the dishes by hand rather than using the dishwasher so he had something mindless to do as he tried to think on the problem.

A solution presented itself in the miserable house elf that had appeared at his elbow. It took a lot for Steve not to flinch in surprise every time it happened. The thing took a plate, used magic to dry it, then put it away. It fixed the teacup as well, offering it to Steve.

"Master's favourite muggle film," it said, floating a clipping from a newspaper in front of him over the sink.

Steve turned his head as he put the small glass pan Harry had used to roast the potatoes into the hot sudsy water. "You hate me. Why are you trying to help?"

"Kreacher hates those who hurt Kreacher's Master. Master has forbidden Kreacher from hurting the not-muggle when not-muggle hurts Master."

"I haven't hurt him. We just had an argument."

"Kreacher protects Master. Master forbids Kreacher from protecting him. Kreacher must find another way. Kreacher helps not-muggle so not-muggle stops hurting Kreacher's Master."

Steve stared at the wrinkly old thing for a long moment. "You're trying to set Harry and I up on a date so I stop making Harry mad at me and you don't have to be angry that you can't what? Hit me for hurting his feelings?" He was certain that if such a thing as Kreacher could look smug, this was exactly the expression it was giving him. "A night out won’t fix what’s wrong with us. But… It’s as good a place as any to start.."

**o0o**

Harry didn't come out of his room until the following day. And only because Kreacher had assured him that Steve was gone from the apartment.

"You lying wrinkled scrotum faced Limburger scented BLIGHT!" Harry had hissed viciously at the elf after he had come into the kitchen to see Steve laying the table for breakfast. A tin of cocoa out on the counter next to the coffee pot where Harry could see it. The wizard threw himself petulantly into his usual chair. The plate there had some of his breakfast favourites. Right down to the marmalade on his toast and the berries on his waffle. Though they were toaster waffles. If Kreacher had made breakfast it would have been a Belgian waffle.

A cup of strong coffee with just the right amount of sugar, cream, and cocoa powder was set quietly in front of him.

"This doesn't mean I forgive you," Harry snapped, snatching up the cup and taking a long, deep whiff of the drink. Steve simply nodded and sat down opposite to eat his own breakfast.

The tension in the air was palpable as they ate in absolute silence. Harry, petty as he was, didn't even ask for Steve to pass the salt or pepper, using the summoning charm instead to get him whatever he wanted. And though it annoyed and well, slightly pissed Steve off he didn't open his mouth to complain. When Harry was clearly finished eating, Kreacher appeared at Steve's elbow.

"Kreacher has taken the not-muggle’s suitcase to the filthy squib's tower."

"You're leaving?"

"For a few days," Steve said. The first words he'd spoken since Harry had come out of his room.

Kreacher started clearing the table.

"Oh..."

"After your elf turned all my whites pink, I thought it might be best to give you some space. Just for a little while."

"I see..."

"We just..." Steve ran a hand through his hair. "We just have some stuff to work out. Both of us. And this isn't going to work until we deal with it."

"So you're just going to walk away?"

"No. I'm giving you space to sort out your head and figure out exactly what it is you want before what little we have gets blown to hell. I want this to work. I really do. But we can't keep fighting like this. We both have one hell of a temper."

"Oil and water sometimes," Harry admits.

"Yeah," Steve adds quietly. "So I'll just leave for a few days so you can figure out what you want from this. Besides, Hermione has been nagging me about coming in so she can give me another once over for her research."

**o0o**

Steve wasn't at the tower for more than two days before Hermione had grabbed him and dragged him into her office and refused to let him leave until he'd told her all about his adventures across the western hemisphere. Mostly wanting to know about any injuries he'd sustained.

It was only after she had given him a full physical, explained that she'd been asked by Coulson to resume and in fact expand her research, and then made a completely new set of charts using his information before she FINALLY let him loose with a warning that she would be calling him in once every two weeks for further testing.

It was three days before Kreacher snuck up on him in his rooms to inform him that Harry had made an appointment with a mind healer and made an appointment for the following week. However… “Master’s favourite film will still be playing…”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Kreacher. I know. I’ve already got the tickets.”

**o0o**

Pepper Potts had heard about the strange creature that stood in her office.

This was the first she'd had the pleasure of meeting one.

"Do I understand you correctly Mr... Kidneythrasher is it?"

"Senior Account Manager Kidneythrasher," the goblin corrected.

"You want Mr. Stark to come with you, through a fireplace, to a secretive magical fantasy bank so he can sign a binding contract with his... blood?"

"How else am I to ensure Mr. Stark is who he claims to be?"

"Right..." she said with uncertainty lacing her voice. "Well I'm sorry Mr. Kidneythrasher but Mr. Stark is unavailable today. And for the rest of the week. You'll need to make an appointment-"

"One does not simply tell a Senior Account Manager to make an appointment with his client."

"They do when that client is Tony Stark. Now then.... It seems he has Monday free. Will that suit you or should I schedule you for next month?"

"Miss Potts-"

"Ah. Monday's all booked up. So is next month. I can pencil you in for just after Christmas? But it will have to be a short meeting, as since it's after his annual vacation he'll have quite a lot to catch up on when he returns and before the new year starts you understand."

The goblin glared at her, baring its teeth. She blinked and looked back to her computer. "Ah... Sorry about that. Looks like that's just been filled as well. There isn't a single opening in his schedule until next August."

"You insolent, feeble minded-"

"August two years from now," she said immediately. "Open your trap one more time and it'll be next decade."

"Fire haired shrew."

"August of 2020 it is then. Thank you for your time, Mr. Kidneythrasher. Shall I have security escort you out or can you find the exit on your own?"

No doubt, Pepper knew, Tony was watching every second with glee from his workshop. Cackling over a bucket of popcorn. Made as unhealthy as humanly possible.

And he was. Right along with Rhodey, Natasha, and Hermione.

**o0o**

Harry was in therapy.

Things with Steve were still... rocky. But there were no repeats of their fight.

Yes, they still squabbled and bickered – all couples did at some time or another. But there was very little bite to it. No hostility in the words when Harry would get upset. Frustration certainly, especially when both he AND Steve were having one of their rough days at the same time.

They'd decided, their jobs permitting, to a date night every other week. Sometimes they stayed in, other times they went out. Usually under heavy glamours so no matter which world they stepped into, neither of them would get mobbed by fans.

Once they had finally gotten to a good place with each other again, Harry found he quite liked 'civilian' life. It only took about four decades or so to get there after he offed Voldemort, but better late than never.

**o0o**

Harry stood in the lobby of Gringotts New York next to Tony who, despite Pepper's best efforts, still had to come down to the bank through the fireplace on Harry's floor of the tower.

And oh his account manager made sure he knew exactly what he'd thought of Pepper.

"And I intend to keep that appointment, Mr. Stark!" the goblin snarled as they left his office, led by a lesser rank accountant of the bank. The cart ride to their vaults was, in Harry's opinion, far less fun than the ones at the London location had been.

"And why exactly did I have to come along?" Tony had asked once they were stopped in front of a rather impressively sized vault.

"Because the laws are different here I can finally add you to the family accounts properly," Harry had replied, climbing out of the cart. "Now come on. This is a vault I never knew I had. There's no telling what's locked away inside."

"So how are you just going to add me on? Shouldn't we have done that upstairs?"

The goblin leading them to the vault stopped and coughed to get their attention. When he had it, he frowned at them. "Normally, Mr. Stark, that would be the case. However your father's status with us has changed and given him and those of his blood... special privileges. Please place your dominant hand to the vault door, Lord Potter-Black. You as well, Mr. Stark."

Harry did as he was bid, placing his dominant wand hand against the cool metal. Tony stepped up beside him, and both men yelped when the metal became hot and burned them. When at last they could take their hands away, they were already healing. Bloody handprints remained on the door before the gears ground and the vault began to open.

As the doors parted to allow them passage, the goblin waited outside. Harry stepped in first, taking it all in. There was gold everywhere. Weapons. Medieval armours of varied styles and periods standing on mannequins. Banners, flags, and battle standards showing various versions of the family crest through the centuries. Even that of the Peverell crest Harry most commonly used, with a little modification, was present in the collection.

"Holy shit. We're loaded!"

"Is money all you think about, Tony?" Harry chastised him as he stopped to inspect a glass case of fine and delicate china.

"Hey Harry, what's this?!"

The old wizard turned away from the cabinet, following Tony's voice across the vault to a wall of vines. Or at least, a tapestry that looked like it was covered in vines. "It's.... My God I thought...." he reached out and brushed his fingers against the ancient linen. "I thought it was lost when the death eaters attacked your great grandparents and destroyed the original Potter Manor."

"What is it?"

"It's the family tree, Cedric," he said softly, his voice a hushed whisper. He was so overcome with emotion he lost himself a moment, forgetting and using the man's birth name rather than the one he preferred. "This... this is our entire history. From the very beginning," he said, pointing to the top, then down to the sparse few names near the bottom. "To the end."

Tony took out his phone, snapping a few pictures for later. Harry searched the names, following from the bottom where his son's birth name was stitched by magic into the fabric and upwards, through his own and up to his father. Then to his father. And there, next to Fleamont Potter was Charlus. Charlus who had married Dorea Black. Charlus Potter who had died near the end of WW2. Who himself had a son that had died during WW1. A son that had changed his surname to Porter but never married and had a son of his own, born after his death.

"We've got cousins," Harry said in awe as he traced the familiar name. "A cousin. A proper blood relation." It was a name that he had never expected to find there. And yet there he was all the same.

"Really? Older than me or younger?"

"Older. Older than myself even, by about thirty years or so," he said as he stood to his full height. "I'll make a better study of this later. Perhaps I can find more branches. More proper, if distant, blood relations to the Potter family. Come on. We've got all day to have a look around."

And look around they did. Just when they’d thought they had found the last of the hidden fortune, Tony would turn a corner and find another long lost treasure. Or Harry would trip over a medieval broom and land face first in front of a bookshelf covered in banned tomes of dark magic so ancient and potent they would have had Voldemort himself prostrating before Harry for the privilege of being in the same building as those books. Let alone the same room.

"Hello?!"

Tony looked up from the scroll he'd found detailing some obscure magical device he supposed an ancestor had invented, and searched the surrounding area for Harry. But he didn't see him. He shrugged and went back to examining the scroll.

"Hallo! Anybody there?!" called a different voice. That time, Tony knew he couldn't have mistaken it for Harry. It was far too... feminine to be mistaken as his father. Tony rolled up the scroll and followed the voice, calling out to let them know he heard them.

"What's a gorgeous sounding woman doing in a dank vault like this?" he asked, eliciting a giggle in reply. Anything to get the voices to come back and guide his way. He wound through a maze of bookshelves, display cases, and the occasional torture device before he finally found them.

Four picture frames. Five faces staring back at him.

"You sound American. Are you? American I mean," said one, a pudgy young man that was kept separate from the other three.

"Yeah," he said. "Can I just...." he started, looking at the remaining four faces staring back at him. He saw green eyes, bright and innocent staring at him from a pale face topped by a mane of rich, beautiful red. And the realization of what he had found had come up and slapped him right in the face. "Let me go get my dad. He's... going to want to see this for himself."

"You act like you haven't seen a wizard's portrait before," one of the men said, a scar down his young face and his tawny hair perfectly combed. Painted in a permanent gentlemen's style. "Are you a muggle? Or a squib?"

"Squib. Just... Just don't go anywhere. I'll be right back," Tony said, nearly dropping the scroll he still held clamped tightly in his hand. He tripped a few times trying to find Harry, finally having to resort to calling out for him. He didn't even hesitate calling out for 'dad' rather than his name.

He found Harry among a collection of some of the oddest looking devices he had ever seen. But it didn't matter. "I found something. Something big. You have to come see this."

"It can wait until tomorrow."

"It's your parents," he said. "It's James and Lily Potter."

Glass shattered as Harry dropped the... whatever it was he was holding and turned to face Tony, eyes wide and hopeful. "Show me. Now."

Harry and Tony climbed over the piles of gold. And crept their way along the stacks of books and carefully balanced trunks. They slipped between display cases and finally, finally came out into a nook where four portraits were hung with great care. His heart beating wildly in his chest, Harry let out a strangled cry. "Mum!" he exclaimed. "Dad!"

There was a whimper from the side, and Harry's head jerked quickly, his wrist popped back and his wand slid into his hand. Tony took a step back from him, from the hate that burned in the old man's eyes as he took in the portrait of the pudgy, snivelling one that even Tony noted was kept apart from the others. "Peter," Harry snarled, throwing first a hex and then flames at the portrait, burning it quickly to cinders.

The occupants of the other three frames were silent for a long moment before there was a barking laugh that Harry thought he'd never hear again. "Good riddance!" the painted remnant of a 20 year old Sirius Black cried out.

"To bad rubbish," the matching portrait of Remus Lupin added.

And then, something Tony thought he'd never in his entire life thought he would ever see happened.

Harry Potter fell to his knees and he cried.

The portraits were, of course, taken that very day from the vault and straight to the tower to Harry's private floor. They were put in pride of place in his living room there.

Pepper would find Tony later that evening, sitting in a rather comfortable armchair, pleasantly drunk, and still listening to the stories of his grandparents and their two best friends long after Harry had been forced to excuse himself and return home to his apartment.

**o0o**

The Avengers had been called a few times to root out some HYDRA cells that SHIELD couldn't take down on their own. And the occasional supervillain. Well, the term supervillain was used loosely. Pretty much just things an average SHIELD agent was just not equipped to deal with.

By New Years Eve, Harry and Steve were nearly ready to go MIA for a week or so just to have some uninterrupted time to themselves. No calls to assemble. No Tony calling Harry at awkward moments. No Sam showing up to grab Steve and go on a wild goose chase for a weekend because Bucky MIGHT have been spotted somewhere in Alabama or Canada or South Africa.

But, New Years Eve Harry had decided was a sacred day and if anyone wanted to bother them then they could just piss off. He had more important things to do, like bringing Steve to Floor 71 using a sling ring to avoid being spotted by Tony, for at least part of the day.

It wasn't until he was shown the portraits that he understood why Harry had been so dead set on ignoring all calls, turning off their phones, and generally being rather... jittery for most of the day.

"Steven," Harry said, directing the man's attention to the three frames on the wall of the living room once they had arrived. Only one had people in it at the moment. The other two remained blank. "I would like you to meet my parents. James and Lily Potter."

"Harry that's-"

"Oh he's very well aware that we're paintings, dear," the woman said, spooking Steve a bit. The man who looked very much like Harry at her side laughed. She elbowed him in the side. "It's... well, I'll be honest. We don't know how this works other than to just say magic. We can think, feel, and talk like a living person. We have all of our memories up until our deaths, despite how young or old we look. And we even sleep sometimes but that's mostly out of being rather bored than out of any real need for it."

"I... It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Sir."

"James and Lily are fine," James said. "It's good to finally meet you as well, Captain Rogers. We've heard so much about you from Harry and his s-"

"Cousin," Lily interjected. "Tony. Though Harry's stories have been far more entertaining."

"All good I hope."

"Only the best," she said in a some-what teasing manner. "Perhaps if you hang around long enough you might get to meet his godfathers as well. They're visiting other frames at the moment."

Steve glanced at the empty frames. "They can-"

"Leave. Yes. But only to another frame that is linked using magic to their own. Like this," she said, stepping out of her own and into another. Then the next and then her husband followed. "These were made as part of a set just before James and I married. There was another but..."

"I've been told about Mr. Pettigrew," Steve said. "I'm sorry."

Lily smiled kindly at him, then her painted expression hardened. "Now then, while I know it's unconventional given we're, well, dead, it's time we give you the Talk. Sit down. You'll be here a while, Captain Rogers."

Harry muttered under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like a complaint, but was told to get his guest a drink or sit down and join him.

Harry busied himself with getting Steve a drink. And made sure it took him a while to do it, too.

By the time Lily and James were done with him, Steve's cheeks were burning and he couldn't look Harry in the eye. The back of his neck was bright red and he did his level best to keep a straight face as Harry collected their hardly touched drinks.

They were out through a sling-ring portal soon after. Once they were back in the safety of their apartment, Harry burst into laughter.

"It's not funny!"

"Yes it is! You were just threatened with bodily harm by a painting!"

"A weird magic painting of your parents!"

"Well, yeah. But come on, you have to admit, it's pretty funny."

"Harry!"

The wizard did his best to stifle his laughter so he could take off his coat and hang it up by the door.

"You're not going to get... frames for them for here, are you?"

"Of course not. Even dead, nobody wants their parents spying on them all the time."

"Good. I don't think my old heart could take it!"

"Your old heart is still in peak condition for a man as old as you, Captain. Now are you done or am I going to have to call for take away again?"

"I'm done."

"Good. Because this is OUR day and I'll be damned if I don't get to see you in an apron helping me make dinner. And then a movie on the sofa."

**o0o**

Steve and Harry finished the night on the sofa, Harry curled up against Steve's side and fell asleep watching an old Sherlock Holmes movie.

It wasn't lost on the old soldier which one it had been. An old black and white film starring Basil Rathbone.

The last time he'd seen it had been on a large screen in a theatre crammed with other people and preceded by a news reel about the war. Harry hadn't curled into his side that time, but he had been sitting beside him in the theatre.

Kreacher popped in quietly with a blanket from Harry's bed, eyed Steve for a moment, then he covered them both with it.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Steve whispered to the elf. It gave him a severe look before following that up with a curt nod and disappearing again.

**o0o**

The Avengers were called to assemble on February 27th for the first time in quite a long while – well, a long while for them at any rate.

A HYDRA base had been located in Eastern Europe and looked like trouble was starting to brew.

Thor, it turned out, was "on a break" from his relationship with Jane and would be taking up residence in the tower for a while. Technically they were still together but... Jane was highly focused on her research and career and when she had time to spare she'd spend it with her hunky Asgardian boyfriend. And between missions she and Thor would chat with the help of JARVIS and videos. Occasionally he'd leave to go visit – but even Bruce could see it was going to end in disaster for the god of thunder.

At Clint's advice though no one pointed out the fact that his relationship with Jane was just circling the drain at this point. Better to let a man as powerful as him wallow in ignorance for as long as possible.

Bruce kind of had a thing going with Natasha that nobody had discovered was even a thing until she was able to calm the Hulk down when they had finished the mission.

And Tony was already calling in a SI clean-up crew.

Harry thanked his lucky stars that the base was just a standard HYDRA base and not what he had been accustomed to dealing with the year before.

**o0o**

The moment they got home, Steve found himself pushed against the front door as soon as it was closed and Harry's mouth on his.

It took only a few seconds for reality to kick in and he pushed him away. "Harry?"

"You have.... You have no damn idea how long I've been waiting to do that."

"A little warning next time!"

"Do you know what that uniform does to me? Watching you in action like that? My God man you're-" He never got the words out. Instead he was pushed back until the back of his legs hit a table, his mouth otherwise engaged. It was Harry's turn to break the kiss. "Steven, have you ever actually- I mean to say, with man before?"

"I'm a fast learner," Steve said. "That is, if this is what you want?"

"Of course it's what I bloody want. Is it what you-"

Harry was shut up again and manoeuvred around the furniture clumsily until they ended up with, somehow, Steve on his back on their coffee table with Harry straddling him. Both mostly still clothed.

Half an hour later Harry was sitting in the floor between Steve's knees, one hand still on his spent cock and the other still braced against Steve's thigh. The man himself lifted his head to look down past his open trousers at a sleepy, but grinning Harry. "That was-"

"If you thought that was good, just wait until you get me in a bed Soldier," he said cheekily before wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

**o0o**

It didn't happen every time.

But it did happen more than once. More than twice even.

Even Harry's magic felt... freer. Lighter afterwards. Like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

He knew what that was. He'd mentioned it to Fury once before. Or at least implied it.

And after a very long conversation one night when both were just far too tired to do more than lay in Harry's bed together but not quite tired enough to sleep, it was made clear that it would keep being a thing as long as Harry kept up with his therapy. Harry thought he'd be flippant and point out he wasn't the only one with war related PTSD, and Steve didn't even bat an eyelash when he'd said, "Why do you think I go down to DC every other week that we don't have date night?"

"Yeah, why do you do that? Sam can't be all that fun to hang with."

"He runs a group down at the VA. It... helps sometimes. To get it out of my head to people a little closer to my own experience."

Harry skipped his appointment only once.

And when Kreacher squealed on him to Steve, Steve spent three nights at the tower. And he came back because Kreacher told him Harry finally dragged his sorry ass out of bed and got himself squeezed in for a new appointment.

**o0o**

Harry sat staring at the envelope with a frown.

Tony peered over his shoulder as Clint tossed scraps of bacon to the big, threatening black owl that had delivered the letter right into Harry's lunch. "Oh. Look at that. They used the good parchment. And the fancy title, too. 'Noble Warrior Lord of the Ancient Houses of Potter and Black'. Thought the US version didn't go in for all that pageantry."

"They... they don't. This isn't from MACUSA," he said, turning the envelope over in his hands and checking the wax seal. He certainly recognized it easily enough from past correspondence with the ICW, but to his knowledge, as of Christmas of this past year, they had officially disbanded for good.

And yet...

With shaking hands he broke the seal. The envelope took on a life of it's own, rising from his hands and reconfiguring itself into a mouth, the wax seal becoming lips as a voice emanating from the formerly inanimate object.

"Lord Harry Potter-Black, your presence is requested by the United Nations Council of Magical Sovereign States on the fourteenth of March. As a wizard of your status and stature, your cooperation in this regard is greatly encouraged, as your services have been highly recommended by numerous heads of state. We hope to see you in Geneva, Lord Potter-Black. Details and an itinerary are enclosed."

The envelope ripped itself apart, revealing a packet of documents on much finer parchment with even fancier lettering.

"Is that gold leaf?" Clint asked, snatching the papers before they could fall into the scraps that covered Harry's lunch. "Holy shit, Harry! That's-"

"Real gold, yes. It's a very common place metal."

"So common you use it as actual money," Tony said, picking bits of paper off of his sandwich. "Speaking of-"

"Yes yes. I'll cover the clean-up costs from last week. Just drop a note for Kreacher, he'll handle the rest," Harry said, taking the papers from Clint so he could read them over. He vanished the envelope scraps before picking up his fork and trying to eat again while he read.

"So what is it?"

"I don't know."

"Why not?"

Harry sighed, looking up at Clint and shaking his head. "Honestly, I'll tell you once I've read it. Now can I please deal with this in peace?"

Clint eventually gave up, deciding to go bother Thor for a while. Tony and Harry were left in the commons, their plates long empty and Tony occasionally refilling their drinks. Finally Harry sat back and turned his face up to look at the ceiling. The papers were left beside his cup. "May I?" Tony asked. Harry waved him off. He heard the rustle of paper as Tony skimmed the documents. "I've been digging around," he said after ten minutes. "JARVIS can't find anything on a council of magic in the UN computers."

"He wouldn't. It didn't exist until recently. This is, in fact, the first I've heard of it. Well, in name. I did get a missive last week about something to replace the ICW. I figured it was more of a courtesy given... the events of the last year."

"How long was the ICW around for? When was it founded?"

"Oh.... Long before the muggle UN. Long before the League of Nations. I think, if I remember my crash course in history during my Unspeakables training, it was started in response to a constant state of war between smaller magical kingdoms across Europe around... I think the time of the Roman conquest. But I can't be certain. Of course it wasn't called the ICW then. The first iteration was modelled on the Roman Senate, but over time it evolved and grew into a worldwide organization. I suppose it only makes sense in the absence of an absolute authority the world leaders would push for a replacement. I didn't think it would be this soon though."

"Working with the UN to set one up might be a step in the right direction. Might help drag you guys out of the dark ages at last."

"Perhaps," Harry sighed, turning his eyes from the ceiling. "I won't know for certain unless I go, now will I?"

"Should I block out the whole week? Make sure Jolly Green's playpen is ready for you?"

Harry shook his head and took the papers back, gathering them together and transfiguring his napkin into a folder for them. "That won't be necessary. I've... been seeing someone."

"Do I know him?"

"Not like that. For my head. A proper mind healer. Recommended to me by President Llewellyn-Graham herself. It's not perfect and I have a hard time with the medications she's prescribed sometimes but... it helps take the edge off. I may take her with me... just in case."

"No new stories about crushing someone's pelvis?"

"Not that I'm open to discussing, no."

"Good."

"Agreed."

"So I get to come as your plus one, right?"

"Of course not!"

**o0o**

The day before Harry was to leave for Geneva he sat for his appointment with his mind healer. He offered her a free skiing trip, but she politely declined.

Steve had left that morning after re-packing Harry's bag for him when Kreacher decided none of what Harry had packed was right and had re-done it himself. He was heading out with Sam after a lead on Bucky.

Harry was spending the week in Geneva, and Steve would be spending two with Sam chasing a ghost.

It didn't seem terribly exciting.

**o0o**

Harry was absolutely wrong it was most definitely exciting.

There were no less than eight assassination attempts in the first twenty-four hours of the week long summit to ratify a formal treaty between all of the Sovereign States of the Magical World – human and non-human alike. Nine if you counted the accidental one that happened purely by virtue of mistranslation with a miscast translation charm.

By the third day, Harry finally got to find out why he'd been asked to come. He and seven others were chosen to be the first openly magic individuals for the muggle world. Harry's status as an Avenger, already using his powers for the good of the world regardless of their status in it, was a rather large tick in the plus column for him.

And he did, technically, have a choice. He could tell them to fuck off and walk away.

But a phone call to Steve, and then another to Hermione and Ron served to point out why he couldn't do that. Why he already knew what he was going to say in his response.

It was that damned Saving People Thing he had. If doing what he had already been doing, but with his real face and his real name, would help his kind integrate into the world and prevent a repeat of all the terrors he had lived through and fought against... then they didn't need to ask him. He'd fucking volunteer.

And so on day six, after the treaty had finally been hammered out, read, and ratified before the entire wizarding world's press. Representatives from the muggle UN were present. And Harry Potter-Black became the first International Humanitarian Ambassador for the United Magical Sovereign States, the supernatural side of the United Nations. The others were assigned to be more "local" and diplomatic ambassadors – true ambassadors in the sense of the job and the word – for the six populated continents. Harry himself, though having no active role in the governing of the magical world, was essentially the "face" of it – provided he took off his mask and showed himself and all his power to the world as a force for positive change and integration.

The statute of secrecy was still, technically, in place. However the Ambassadors held diplomatic immunity, provided it wasn't abused.

On the final day, Harry snuck off before the end of the fancy celebratory state dinner, laying in bed with his two-way mirror, telling Hermione and Ron everything that had happened in Geneva since his arrival. About the big changes that were coming for the magical world and those within it – and outside it. "You won't believe it but... the representatives from Egypt? Squibs. New Zealand? Werewolves. And of course goblins, dwarves, vampires. Belgium sent a couple of hags. It's really all very fascinating here. I'll have to bring you next time."

**o0o**

"We nearly had him this time," Sam said with a wince as Harry worked little spells to reset the man's leg little by little.

He'd been woken in the middle of the night by a call from Steve asking him to come out to Lithuania and help put him and Sam back together so to speak.

"I swear leaving the two of you alone to adventure around together is just begging for trouble," he said, checking his supply box for another mild pain potion that was considered "muggle safe". He uncorked it and held it out to Sam. "Two small sips only. Don't-," he said, and before he could caution him not to take gulps, the man did so anyway causing Harry to scramble to get the bottle out of his hand before he fell back with a loud thud onto the table. "Gulp it," he finished with a defeated sigh.

"He going to be okay?"

Harry held the bottle up to the light so he could see, somewhat, through the translucent green glass for how much was left. "He will be. And he'll wake up with one hell of a headache in about twenty hours."

"Twenty-"

"I tried to tell him not to gulp it!" Harry insisted as he set back to work on Sam's leg. "He's lucky it's clean breaks and easy fixes. What in the hell was he doing when this happened?"

"Flying."

"He can fly better than that, Steven."

"He was shot out of the sky while tracking Bucky. We lost him in the confusion."

"HYDRA?"

"HYDRA," Steve confirmed.

Harry hummed as he continued to cast and weave his magic all along Sam's leg. Steve watched, sitting in a chair to the side as wisps of coloured strands danced through the air from the tip of Harry's wand. It wasn't so dissimilar from what he remembered of their time together over that fateful summer they had first met. "You're very good at that. Bedside manner needs a bit of work though."

"I never heard you complain."

He shook his head with a small grin. "Oh I complained plenty. I just didn't have much choice in the matter," he said as Harry finished up Sam's leg before casting a wider diagnostic charm to check him over for other, less pressing injuries. "You ever think about being a doctor?"

"Once or twice," Harry said, making a note that Sam had the beginnings of a respiratory infection. A few quick healing charms took care of various scrapes and bruises from his fall. "But I don't have the patience for it. Healing magic and my magic don't exactly... mesh well together."

"Yeah right."

"No it's true. I can do field triage just fine. Basically healing magic that is commonly used in battle situations I can do easily with my eyes closed. It's the more advanced forms of medicine I'm hopeless with. Even I have to go see Hermione from time to time unless I want to just..." He mimed slitting his throat before returning to his supply box, searching for a muggle safe option for bronchitis. Finding none, he decided to just clue Sam in he was getting a chest infection and let his doctor handle it. "And reset my entire body."

"Does it do that every time you-"

"Yes. And it can be quite painful," Harry said quickly. "I wouldn't recommend it."

"How can you be so... so flippant about dying? Is it a curse? Can it be broken?"

Harry shrugged, counting his pain potions, his dreamless sleeps, his calming draughts, and then selecting a muscle balm. He closed the box, making sure the lid was secured down nice and tight. "If I don't joke about it, it'll drive me mad. As for the rest... for some this would be a blessing. Others, it's a curse. Often times I see it as both. Unfortunately," he said, glancing to the corner of the room. Where the coldness lay. Where the darkness had seeped in and planted itself the moment he had arrived. More often than not he can ignore the corners of the rooms. The blackness in the edge of his vision. But days like today... The primordial spectre over which he held his unwanted mastery was ever present in his waking thoughts and would not allow itself to be ignored so easily. "I don't think it can be removed." He held up the jar of balm, but didn't do Steve the injustice of forcing a smile to his face. "Don't think I didn't notice you favouring your ankle and that left shoulder."

"I'm fine, Harry."

"I'll be the judge of that. Off with the shirt at least, soldier, and let me get a proper look at you."

In the end, Steve was straddling a chair, his chin resting on the back of it while Harry tutted and hummed disapprovingly – as he so often did after one of Steve's back alley beat ups – as he worked the bruise balm into his skin and massaged the tenseness out of his muscles. "Given what we know from 'Mione's research," Harry said as he wiped his hands off later. "The bruising should fade in a day or two. The ankle should ease up in around the same amount of time."

"And Sam?"

"Will be right as rain when he wakes up. Might feel a little stiffness in the cold, but outside that the leg was easily repaired. Clean breaks all the way through so I was able to knit the bone back together quite easily."

**o0o**

Monsters and mayhem.

That's what life was like. The Avengers running out to smash the remnants of HYDRA between defending New York and various other important places in the world from massive monsters rising from the sea. Robotic armies hell-bent on bringing down Tony Stark for one reason or another.

A rogue sorcerer or eight trying to bring about some bizarre calamity or another from a parallel dimension.

And then, there were days like this.

Ones where the team were called together to do some good PR. An evil even more necessary now than it had been before considering they could no longer rely on SHIELD to smooth things over for them after battles anymore.

And this particular one...

"I can't believe I agreed to this..." Harry muttered, adjusting his half mask with a frown. "I feel so exposed."

"It could be worse," Clint said, sitting beside him with a purple towel draped around his shoulders. "You could be Steve." He pointed towards the man with the star spangled swim trunks awkwardly posing with his shield. "Poor bastard doesn't know what to do with himself."

"Okay there is that. How badly do you think Tony's going to tease him when the damned things come out?"

"Nowhere near as badly as he'll tease me and Bruce," Harry sighed, then perked up a little bit as he watched Steve. "Sometimes, I think he forgets what he looks like to other people. Look, there," he said, pointing out the slight hunch to the man's shoulders. "He's trying to shrink into himself. He used to do that when he was younger. Usually while trying to chat up a pretty girl in the bar."

Clint turned some in his chair, giving him a side-long glance before looking back towards Steve and his awkward posing. "How far back do you two go again?"

"It's complicated and unfortunately I cannot explain how or why."

"Classified?"

"Highly. And I literally cannot explain it because there's a magical oath physically preventing me from doing so. But, I can tell you it was for me eight years ago when Steven and I first met. I lived in his apartment for three months and then I returned from whence I came. Here, however, only two to three days had passed. However for Steven..." Harry sighed. "It was the summer before he was turned into... well..." He waved his hand toward the man.

Clint stared at him wide-eyed. "Time travel. You're talking about time travel!"

Harry smiled. "I'm not NOT talking about time travel because I most definitely did NOT meet Cap through time travel," he said, his wording skirting too close to the truth for him to say more on it, but enough to get the point across. "However, hypothetically and in general terms, strictly for academic purposes you understand, yes it's real. No you can't use it. Only magical people can. If a non-magical person such as yourself or even Tony attempted to use such methods, it would simply not work. But for people like me, like Dr. Granger-Weasley and their family.... Well, she's only two years older than us instead of one because she spent an entire school year time travelling back and forth to get to all of her classes on time in third year."

"It's real?"

"Yes. Very much so and I've done it a fair few times myself. But unless the muggles come up with a method of their own, I don't see it happening for you any time soon, Clint."

They chatted about other things, mostly teasing Steve until it was Harry's turn to cast off his robe and take one for the team.

And when he did, he heard the sharp whistle from Clint upon seeing his back. "Jesus!"

Harry shrugged, adjusted the half-mask by reapplying a sticking charm to his face, and strode with all the confidence he didn't feel towards the camera set up as the set dressers were changing out from July to October. By the time Harry stepped into the floodlight, the scarring was nearly invisible, a slight ripple to the air as the magic he had cast upon himself settled into place.

After all, who would want to buy a calendar with someone in it who's body looked like it had been used as target practice for nearly all of its life.

"How-"

"A wizard did it," Steve said as he tightened the belt on his robe before sitting in Harry's now empty chair. "And just leave it at that."

**o0o**

Another successful mission.

They were one step closer to taking down the last of HYDRA.

And then the news came in. The Sceptre – Loki's Sceptre – was missing. Had been for... well... nearly the entire time since SHIELD got their hands on it. Thor was pissed right off. Tony, too. Steve and Harry weren't all that surprised since by that point HYDRA and SHIELD were one and the same with the sole exception being those who were loyal to Fury himself.

Bruce set to work digging out the old intel about the sceptre so they could start tracking it ASAP. Natasha hit up any contacts that weren't compromised as a result of her senate hearing after the fall of SHIELD.

Harry, too, hit up his own.

But the wait for replies and intel couldn't be avoided. And in the meantime other problems would pop up that needed their attention and sometimes direct intervention.

Thought tonight... Tonight was calm. Well, calm-ish.

They'd stopped a string of bank robberies by a man who could multiply himself at will. They even saved hostages that morning from a mad scientist trying to turn them all into billy goats for some reason. Definitely a tick in the win column.

The evening after they had got back to the tower and out of medical, Harry had turned to him in the elevator and said, "Have I ever taken you to the wizarding district out on Coney Island?"

And that's how Steve found himself in disguise on a roller coaster with Harry, also in disguise, in the dead of night clinging to his seat for dear life even though he knew he wasn't going to fall out because of the sticking charm that had firmly attached his rear end to the seat to which he clung. The speed was faster than any roller coaster he'd ever been on, and the fact that he and Harry were right there at the very front wasn't helping either. The lack of a safety bar or harness was only icing on the cake.

Harry, for his part, was having the time of his life. Though he did apologize to Steve when they were back on the ground by buying him a funnel cake and a coke.

"If you thought that was fast," Harry said, causing Steve to glare at him suspiciously. "You should ride my broom sometime."

"Harry-"

"No, I mean a literal broom. Like, y'know. Witches at Halloween flying on a broom in the moonlight and all that. I'm partial to the Firebolt series myself, but the Typhoon models out of Asia are superior when it comes to speeds for international league play."

They went for a few more rides, then played carnival games until dawn when the amusement park closed. Tired, but content, they dragged themselves back to the apartment in Brooklyn where they promptly crashed into bed not long after taking off their shoes.

**o0o**

"Well, this is cute."

There was a pair of jeans thrown at Harry's face. "Time to get up magic man," she said, then smirked at him as Harry blearily pulled the jeans from his face and lifted his head.

"Nat?"

"Though from my view, you're already-"

"Let him sleep, Natasha!"

"Stark's on his way over right now. Don't think the two of you want him to catch on to what you've been doing here."

"Shit shit shit!" Harry exclaimed, jumping from the bed, tangled in the blankets, and falling flat on his face against the hardwood floor.

"You okay in there?" Steve called from the living-room.

Harry groaned. Natasha smiled at him before rolling her eyes and leaving him be. "Nothing a little chat with the floor can't fix," she said loudly as she left the bedroom.

"Why," Harry started once he was on his feet again. "The hell is Tony coming over? He never comes over!"

"Something about you promising to meet him this morning for some important trip to the bank?"

"Fuck! Shit! That was this morning?!"

The door slammed shut, and soon Harry was coming out, hopping on one foot as he pulled a boot on, the buckles fastening themselves before he put his foot on the floor and nearly tripped over his other foot. Arms flailing about he managed to stop himself before meeting the floor again.

"Well, I can certainly say you look a lot different in your calendar photos than you do in real life," Natasha said from where she was perched on the end of their sofa. She had a cup of coffee in her hand. Steve stood nearby, fully dressed even with shoes on, as if he were just visiting. Harry's favourite mug in his hand. "Interesting scarring on your chest," she said, raising a brow as she sipped her coffee.

Harry ignored her, inhaling the scent and sighing at the hint of chocolate. "You spoil me."

Steve shrugged. Just as Harry took a sip of his coffee and seated himself in a chair, there came a knock at the door. A very distinctive knock.

"Come on in!" he called out loudly before taking another soothing sip.

The front door opened, and at the last second Harry unwrapped one of his hands from his mug and waved towards the bedroom door, then the door to what had before been Steve's room. They closed on their own, the locks clicking into place before he put his hand back around the cup again.

As Tony came into view Harry smiled. "Have either of you ever wanted to see what a goblin actually looks like?"

"Goblins are real?"

"Of course. And they're the best bankers in the world in my opinion. And very fierce in battle. Always a good ally to have at your back when facing down war."

"I don't think that's a very good idea-"

"Nonsense! While we're down in the vaults dealing with business, I'm sure someone would be more than happy to give our guests a small tour. After all, Tony, part of my job now is to encourage inter-species cooperation and integration. I am, after all, a humanitarian ambassador for the magical people of the world. And they did sign the paperwork-"

It was with a grumble and many complaints that Tony eventually relented. He did, of course, insist that the following day he and Harry get together – alone – to discuss important "family business".

**o0o**

Steve was... well, initially he was surprised to be staring at a living goblin. He'd seen some dead ones, unfortunately, in South America during the hunt for Bucky. To see one alive and staring back at him was something else. The smile it gave him was... "Toothy," Natasha had whispered to him later. "I think it wants to eat us."

"Harry said it was... happy. If that's what it looks like happy, I'd hate to see it mildly upset."

Nonetheless, the pair of them were given a tour often given to parents of muggleborn. Though they did get a few perks for being friends of the Warrior Lord Potter-Black.

Down in the vaults however.... was another story...

**o0o**

"What do you mean I can't have grandmother's engagement ring!"

"I told you, it's tied directly to the lordship ring and like hell you're getting that off me!"

"Can't you, I don't know, shift it to an heir's ring or something?"

"Of course not! This is magic so old not even Hermione can understand it! Just pick a different ring and then we can go!"

Tony was, however, adamant. "No! This is perfect! The stone's cut in the right shape, and the shine is, frankly, the best I've ever seen. The colours are Pepper's exact favourites!. Plus, it was your mother's!"

"And you're not getting it!" Harry shouted back, his voice echoing off the stone cavern walls.

Frustrated, Tony twisted his fingers in his hair and turned away to try and collect his thoughts. Eyes roaming over the cases and boxes of antique and ancient jewellery hoarded like a dragon's treasure by his father's family over the centuries. Over the millennia apparently. "Why can't I have this one little thing? Just this. It's just sitting in here gathering dust. It's not like you're ever going to use it."

"I-" Harry started, but cut himself off, not trusting his own voice.

But Tony, ever shrewd, ever the one to pick up the little things, noticed. He listened. The sounds of Harry's shaky breathing joining the other disturbances to the silence of the vault. Echoing around them. "You what, Harry?"

"I... I.... I'm-" he stammered, then cut himself off again. Tony's hard stare bore into him now as his son had turned back around to cast his scrutinizing gaze upon him. He could feel himself picked apart so easily like one of Tony's engines in the garage. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and did his best to appear much steadier than he felt. "I'm planning to have it reforged by the goblin smiths into a ring more... masculine in style."

"Bullshit. You just don't want-"

"I've been seeing someone for some time and I've been strongly considering a proposal." Tony's hard gaze never wavered. And Harry felt like his skin was trying to crawl off. He wanted nothing more than to squirm under the magnifying glass Tony cast over him. "I don't know if he'll accept it, but I... want to try."

"You're fucking serious."

"Absolutely."

"Who is he?"

"No, Tony. This is mine. This stays with me."

"Is he magic?"

"Sort of."

"Like me?"

Harry considered his words very carefully, then nodded. "Yes. He's a squib."

"Why?"

"He... He makes me want to be a better man."

"Does he even know what you do for a living?"

"Tony, the entire magical community knows I'm a bloody Avenger! It was literally in all the press months ago after I came back from Geneva! You'd know that if you actually picked up a copy of literally any magical newspaper or magazine once in a while!"

Tony was silent for a few moments. And Harry did indeed this time squirm as he waited for his son to say something – anything. When he finally did, Harry was surprised the question didn't settle like a stone in his gut. "Does he know? About me? About your curse?"

"The curse, yes," Harry said. "He knows that I will outlive him. That I will never grow old and that one day, I will bury him. And for some strange reason, Merlin only knows why, he... He hasn't left me despite so many reasons and opportunities to do so."

"And me? Does he know-"

Harry shook his head, finally looking away. "No. As far as he knows, you're a squib and we're cousins. That is all that he knows. If you want, that's all he'll ever know."

"Do you want him to know?"

Harry didn't answer. It was enough for Tony, though, to understand what his father wanted. "Promise me, you'll never tell him."

"I'll swear an oath to ensure it," Harry said.

"No, Harry. No oath. No magical contract. No weird tongue twisting jinx. No boil hexes triggered by the phrase. Just your word. If a man can't trust an honest promise, then they've got no business keeping secrets for each other."

Harry thought about it for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "One condition," he said. "I won't directly tell him. But he may still figure it out on his own, or one of your cousins may slip up and say something. He really is too clever for his own good sometimes. If that happens, and I am confronted, I will not lie to him. I will tell him the truth."

Tony's eyes narrowed a moment in thought. Then, his head titled, just a little. Like it always does when he stops to seriously consider the situation. A hand came up and a finger tapped at his lips and Harry could see the gears turning in the man's head now. "Alright. But.... IF he says yes and IF he finds out, I'm not calling him dad either."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Harry said, relief clear in his voice. "Now, pick out something else and we can get going. I'm sure Natasha and Steven have been bored to tears."

"Actually..." Tony said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Let's take a look at MY vault. I'm sure mom's family might have something almost as good as your mother's ring." He went to Harry, holding out the old velvet box he'd been hanging onto as if it were a peace offering, the lid still open and the green stone shining brightly in the torchlight. Harry accepted it, fingers brushing over the ancient gold reverently before he snapped it closed and shoved it into his pocket.

"If you're into bottle cap necklaces and radish earrings, then you're in luck," he said after a moment. "The Lovegoods were quite eccentric, much like yourself."

"You calling me strange old man?"

"I wouldn't dream of it. Loony, maybe. But never Strange. You know I can't stand that man."

**o0o**

Tony found a ring he quite liked after consulting nineteen different paintings in his vault. The ring he found was silver, with a very odd diamond in the setting. It didn't look odd, but it felt warm when he touched it. The painting of his grandfather, Xenophilius, had said it belonged to his wife. She'd been wearing it when she had her spellcrafting accident that killed her. Old Mr. Lovegood had said he'd been saving it for his Moonbeam, but... Well... he was certain his daughter would have wanted him to have it for his special girl.

Harry, knowing the penchant for Lovegoods of any era to place odd enchantments on their possessions, cast detection charms to see if there was anything he needed to have broken on it and found... nothing. Well, nothing harmful. There was a lot of protection charms on the ring, intended to protect the wearer. And then there was one that had moved Harry nearly to tears. He didn't say anything to his son, but it was one Luna had always favoured. The spell that, though successful, had ultimately caused her mother's death. A powerful spell she had often cast on their child and on Harry himself to keep him safe in battle. One he himself had learned to cast at her insistence despite how draining it was for her afterwards. And was one of the many he had put on Steve so many years ago.

He had wiped his eyes, closed the ring box and handed it over gladly, giving Tony the all-clear.

And the moment Tony returned to the tower, he met up with Happy, knowing his own penchant for losing things and told him to swap out the other one and hang onto this one.

"What other one?"

"The one you've been holding onto since 2008. Give it to your girlfriend, the nurse your comatose behind got hooked on Downton Abbey, and make an honest woman of her. THIS is the one I'm giving Pepper. Family heirloom. Make sure I don't lose it."

As for Harry... Before rejoining the others, he veered off to a side office with the ring box bearing the Potter family engagement ring. Before this trip he hadn't actually given it more than a passing thought, and he didn't actually think Steve would go for it. While things between them were, well, good, they weren't at a place where it would be a good idea to start throwing such ideas around. But now that he'd thrown it out there, given his passing thoughts shape and sound, the idea had taken root. And he would do as he'd said to Tony.

And so the ring was passed on to the goblins with a list of instructions and a quick sketch of what he wanted. Something simple for a man with very simple tastes.

Whether Steve would accept it or not, or if Harry would actually have the courage to ask was another matter entirely.

**o0o**

"Have you met him?"

_"Yes."_

"Who is it?"

_"For the last time Tony, I'm not telling you!"_

"Come on! Not even for your favourite nephew?"

_"You know Teddy is my favourite."_

_"Ron, you're not supposed to have favourites!"_ he heard Hermione's voice in the background. Probably from the kitchen if the purple plumes of smoke curling beneath the door behind the old ginger haired man was anything to go by.

Ron turned away from the mirror to shout back at her. _"Says the one that's always showering Tony in praise!"_

_"He's a super hero Ronald!"_

_"So is Thor!"_

_"Thor's not family you dolt!"_ Hermione's voice shouted back. Ron turned back to Tony in the mirror and sighed.

Tony tried to keep a straight face. "So... I'm her favourite?"

_"No, Tony, she won't tell you who Harry's seeing either. Just leave it alone and let him have his privacy."_

"What if he's a gold digger?"

Ron shook his head. _"No, Tony."_

"But-"

And on it went. Meanwhile, across the room four sets of painted eyes watched. A scar faced young man leaned in to whisper to a bespectacled one, "Should we tell him?"

"Imagine his face when he finds out," Padfoot added. "Come on Prongs. We should tell him."

A hand reached from one frame and into another, snagging Sirius Black by the ear and holding tight. "You say one single word and I'll remind you where your godson gets his famous temper from, Sirius Black."

The commotion caught Tony's attention after he finally ended his mirror call with his uncle. He narrowed his gaze at his grandmother's portrait, where she still stood with her fingers pinching Sirius's ear. "What'd I miss?"

"Oh nothing dear," Lily Potter said sweetly, giving one final tug to her husband's best friend's ear before letting go. "The boys were just trying to place bets on when you'll be proposing again. Did you find a ring that you liked for Miss Potts?"

**o0o**

Natasha flipped through the calendar as she picked through her lunch. "I've seen you naked," she said when Harry dropped tiredly into the seat beside her. His morning had been spent practising manoeuvrers and moves with both Hulk and Clint. Running through a rather intense simulation Tony had set up for them against his latest invention – the Iron Legion.

Too tired to even bother getting back up, he just mumbled under his breath. The lights in the room flickered briefly when the house elf appeared, then disappeared after leaving a rather large meal in front of him.

"I will never get used to that," Nat said, then pointed out the calendar again. It was on February. The picture was one of Harry, in a pair of tight shorts with the symbol usually on his uniform visible at the hem next to the Avengers' A logo that Tony had branded on nearly everything for them. "How much Photoshop did they do to you?"

Harry peered over at the picture as he picked apart his lunch. He shrugged. "No clue. I used a full glamour that day," he said, only slightly cringing at the amount of fake gold and gaudy Mardi Gras decorations he'd been made to pose in. Even the mask was... Harry shuddered. "I don't see why they insisted on going with Mardi Gras instead of a more traditional Valentine theme."

He groaned when a hand slapped him on the back between the shoulders where he'd taken quite a hit from Hulk that morning. Tony was grinning at him when he came around in front. "That's because if I did February then Pepper would kill me. Besides, I thought you'd appreciate the extra effort put in to cover your ugly mug up."

Harry groaned again when Nat flipped through to another page. This time it was Tony in a speedo at the beach. June.

"What?" he said, slightly defensive. "I'll have you know we've already raised a couple hundred thousand off these. Would have been more if Nat-"

"Finish that sentence Stark and this spoon will find a new home up your left nostril."

"Why the left?"

"I'm feeling adventurous today," she replied without missing a beat.

Harry returned to picking at his lunch, trying to ignore the itchy feeling that always came when his body healed itself from numerous, but for him rather minor, injuries all at once.

"Have you seen July yet?" Natasha asked with a smirk, flipping the page up.

Harry nearly choked on his pumpkin juice despite the fact he was there the day it was taken. Natasha watched him from the corner of her eye with a smirk as he sputtered into a napkin. Tony laughed, stepping closer to the table to have a look. "You should have seen the rejected ones. I'm so holding onto them for blackmail."

And for a second time during the same meal, Harry nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.

**o0o**

Steve and Harry were sitting in a diner in DC with Sam. The three of them going over some of the intel they had managed to gather about Bucky's latest movements. Normally they wouldn't be doing such sensitive work in public, but Harry was dying to get away from Tony for a while and Steve was hiding from Hermione's latest bout of testing. A few spells and charms ensured their conversation wouldn't be overheard. Well, not the important parts anyway.

Their waitress, Sam had noted, had been star- struck from the moment the three of them walked in and sat down in her section. Sam had teased Steve about it, and Steve just pulled his ball cap a bit further down over his face.

"And you two wonder why I keep using the mask," Harry had snarked.

That is, until it was time to pay and the waitress had come up, that damned 'Men of the Avengers' calendar in hand and held it out not to Steve, but to Harry with wide eyes and a hopeful smile. "Can I have your autograph, Mr. October?"

Harry's forehead met the table next to his empty teacup. Sam burst into laughter and Steve pulled out a pen. "How about two for one?" he asked, lifting the brim of his hat just enough to show his face a bit better. "July and October?"

Harry muttered something that sounded similar to "Someone kill me please." This only caused Sam to laugh harder as Steve set the calendar on Harry's hunched back and signed the front. When he was done, he nudged Harry in the side.

They didn't have to pay for their meal, and when they left the waitress was grinning from ear to ear, excitedly showing one of her co-workers the calendar.

"What was that about your mask?" Sam teased when they'd gotten far enough away from the diner for Harry to stop trying to hide in his hoodie. "She seemed to know exactly who you were, 'Mr. October'!"

"Must have been one of Harry's sort then," Steve added.

**o0o**

Harry had never intended for Steve to find out. He had promised Tony. But at the same time, it was hard to explain the photos in the album that Steve had found in the bottom of the closet while trying to organize the chaos Harry typically left it in.

At first, Steve was angry. Very angry. Harry had lied to him. Hell, everyone he'd met through Harry had lied to him. Though, there was a silver lining for Harry.

There was nothing to point out that the baby in the photos was Tony. There was no obvious link between the two of them in the album. An album Harry had kept because Luna had put it together for him. It had come with her first posthumous letter after he'd given their son up to keep him safe. Photos from their school days. From the early days of the war. Some of her own family, and others.... obviously from the first year of Tony's life.

So that late May night, Harry kept his word to Tony by not admitting the whole truth. But at the same time...

"His name was Cedric," Harry had said after Steve had calmed down enough to listen. "And he is the reason why I... find it difficult to talk about my friend Luna and that part of the war. Even all this time later."

Neither man got any sleep that night as Harry and Steve sat at the table, photo album open between them, and Harry started to talk. As he did, bits and pieces of Harry's past that he knew, and certain behaviours he had even now, started to make a lot more sense.

**o0o**

Things were a little rough for a while.

Until, of course, they had one hell of an argument after dragging themselves back to the tower. They nearly had their asses handed to them by some asshole scientists who'd managed to free Abomination. Which had sent Hulk into the biggest damn rage they'd ever seen. And from there... well...

"What the hell were you thinking! You nearly got yourself killed!"

"What's the big deal? I can't fucking die so it's really not a problem!"

"The problem is you don't follow orders, Harry! You're reckless and-"

"I'm reckless? You threw a fucking motorcycle at the damn thing! WHILE YOU WERE ON IT!"

The rest of their argument pretty much just became a shouting match before Thor and Tony had to step in and break it up before they came to blows.

"Maybe you should.... take some time in Brucie's playroom for a while, old man. You're getting a bit hot under the collar."

Harry glared at him before turning his gaze to Steve. "This isn't over," he snapped viciously before allowing himself to be led away.

Clint was nursing a dislocated shoulder, staring at what had just transpired on the roof of the tower in front of him. "What the hell just happened?"

Natasha shrugged as Steve stormed past them. "Trouble in paradise?" she asked quietly when he did, not expecting nor receiving an answer.

Thor stared after him before looking back towards where Harry had been led away, a curious expression on his face.

**o0o**

Steve watched the footage from Hulk's playroom, wincing at the thought of what it must sound like inside. JARVIS had advised not to ask for sound. Bruce had agreed, describing it as "haunting and nightmarish" when asked.

"He does this every time he gets... that level of angry?"

"Not every time," Tony said from his workbench, drawing with his fingertips in the holographic interface something to add to his next suit design. "I'm actually surprised. It's been a while since his last blow up. I figured he'd have run off to shatter some guy's pelvis with marathon sex again."

"What?!" Steve exclaimed, caught off guard more by the way Tony had said it than what he'd actually said.

"Tony!" Bruce chided him.

Tony shrugged. "Must really like the guy if he doesn't want to snap him in half."

Steve frowned, looking back at the footage from the playroom. The light show had subsided, for now. JARVIS was rattling off vitals and statistics during what the AI had called "a temporary calm period". Steve watched Harry curl in on himself, scars Steve had traced with his fingertips the morning before were now open and bleeding. A slight smoke sizzling from where it dripped onto the metal floor.

"Sir, you'll need to replace the floors again."

"Did it eat through the steel again?"

"Not as such, no. However the composition of the blood has begun to weaken the structural integrity. It may be worth contacting your special accountant to acquire stronger metals to create a new alloy-"

"Make a note of it, JARVIS. And keep an eye on the floor."

Steve turned away when the light show started back up again. "What, exactly, is wrong with him?"

Bruce had gone back to his research, checking the status on the sceptre locator and Tony resumed his design work.

"Too much power," Tony said simply. "Too bad a temper. Take your pick. He's a walking nuclear weapon, Cap. Sometimes the pressure gets too much and he's got to do something to let it out before he causes more damage." He shrugged.

Bruce glanced at the screen before putting down his pen. "Think of it like this," he said, taking off his glasses and setting them beside his pen and notebook. "From what we've been able to learn about people like him, magical people have certain limits. They plateau and that's it. That's as strong or as powerful as they'll ever get."

"But Harry's not normal. Not even by his people's standards," Tony added. "He's like.... He's like a wizard Hulk."

"I wouldn't say that," Bruce said.

"Okay fine. But still, the fact is he doesn't have a limit. He didn't just push his limits, he broke right through them. And now the angrier he gets the stronger he gets and this happens. The only reason he hasn't blown a hole in the side of the building yet is because I went and redesigned everything from the ground up to contain him as best as I can. Hell, half the research that went into designing Veronica was based on Harry, not Hulk. If it can contain him, I'm pretty sure it'll be strong enough to keep Jolly Green in line."

**o0o**

After four days, Harry finally emerged from the chamber. Within an hour Tony already had a crew in ripping up the damaged floors, removing anything that had been utterly destroyed, and generally having to gut the thing and remake it. Stronger. Better.

Harry had slunk off to borrow Bruce's shower since it was the nearest one. He always felt... wrong after these explosions of his. His skin itched and he wanted to claw it off because it felt so dirty. He knew it wouldn't do any damn good either way. It would always grow back. Heal over. Return to the state it was all those years ago when he had his first death. His first implosion.

He scratched at the starburst-like scar on his chest, right over his heart. It was red and raw. It was always one of the last wounds to reseal and close off. In the confines of the shower, in the steam and the heat and the isolation, he was able to collect himself. Let tears wash away with the soap and the water and the blood. Try and get his thoughts in order now that the anger and the rage had cleared from them.

Harry knew he would have to face Steve sooner or later. Apologize for fighting with him. Hope to be forgiven and possibly a week from then, maybe be allowed off the couch. Or at least in the same apartment.

JARVIS told him as he stepped out of the shower stall that Hermione was waiting for him. With Tony. On floor 71.

"What about my gear? Where'd that end up?" Harry had asked.

_"Captain Rogers and Miss Romanoff collected it from Dr. Banner this morning, offering to take it to your apartment on their way out of town."_

"Oh... Thank you JARVIS."

**o0o**

Steve looked down at his phone. At the increased number of unread messages.

"You know it's rude to ignore your your messages right? This ain't like the old days where you can just pretend your telegram got lost along the way."

"Sam-"

 _"No, he's right Steve. At least read them,"_ Natasha's voice said over the small speaker in front of them. She was stationed on the street below, keeping an eye on the ground while Steve and Sam watched the bazaar from the rooftop of a warehouse.

It was a milk-run type of mission. Mostly surveillance, but if the situation arose intel on the sceptre was always a welcome bonus.

"Isn't it worse to leave it on read?" Steve replied.

"He makes a good point," Sam added.

They could hear the sigh in her voice. _"You know this job would be a lot easier if you weren't hiding out from your boyfriend."_

"I'm not hiding. I'm just... giving him some space to deal with things."

 _"Sure you are,"_ Natasha said, slightly amused. _"Look sharp boys. Hired goons just stepped out from a side street and they don't look to be interested in trying the local favourites."_

Steve put his phone back in his pack, the four messages, which had since become five, remaining unread.

**o0o**

Hermione tutted, setting the vials into the special metal case to the side. The special case lined with velvet and foam to prevent much movement, and lined with davinium to keep its contents secure. "So Tony's been asking about your mysterious boyfriend again," she said as she carefully destroyed the needle and tubing she'd been using to get her samples. A quick healing spell flung with practised ease to the crook of his arm had the puncture closed back up tight.

"He's like a dog with a bone."

"He seems to think that whomever this man is he's a gold digging clout chasing good for nothing."

"Well, glad to know he cares."

"He also thinks that whomever it is will probably cheat on you given your past disastrous attempts at real relationships."

Harry nearly choked on the orange juice he was given, but that could have been the taste of the antivenin potion she'd laced it with. "Drink it all or you don't get the cookie," she quipped at him.

He finished the drink, grimacing at the bitterness of the medication he always had to take after his... blow ups. "Well he can rest assured that isn't the case. Whatever... whatever's going on with us right now it certainly isn't that."

"He didn't know about.... this, did he?" she asked, not needing to say what 'this' even was. Harry shook his head. "Why didn't you tell him? You've told him about Luna and Cedric and-"

"Because it's just one more damn thing that sets me apart from everyone else! In what vein of reality would my ability to literally explode like a thrice damned nuclear weapon come up in conversation? Now that's some nice, lovely pillow talk isn't it? Oh, by the way Steven," Harry snapped sarcastically as he reached for his shirt, pulling it on over his head and looking quite agitated. "Try not to piss me off because when I get mad I'll glass all of New York!"

Harry tugged his shirt down over the top of his jeans. "Yeah, that's real fucking romantic."

"What else haven't you told him? If you keep holding it in-"

"Yes, thank you Dr. Granger-Weasley! But please, don't start trying to be my therapist. I've already got one, who I need to see tomorrow actually. I missed last week because I was burning myself from the inside out!"

Hermione snapped the lid on the case closed, the magic sealing it air tight to keep the deadly blood safe inside. "Damn it Harry! I'm trying to help you – as your friend. Your family. If you can't tell him the truth, the WHOLE truth, then you've got no business being in a relationship with him or anyone for that matter!"

Harry summoned his coat, yanking it on in frustration rather than admit she was right. "Give me a call when the new batch of meds are ready," he said coldly. "Don't want to get a paper-cut and burn a hole in my kitchen counter again."

"Harry wait!"

He didn't. The slam of her office door still ringing in her ears long moments later.

**o0o**

Harry was still... off. Steve was spending more time at the tower than at home. Things were... frosty.

Not all hope was lost though. They still kept up their date nights, both too stubborn for their own good and refusing to give up on each other.

Yet as with all things in the lives of Harry Potter and Steve Rogers, the universe just had really shit timing.

Steve had come back to the apartment and Harry had given him a file and told him to just read it. It was easier than trying to explain the latest oddity that he'd neglected to tell him about his strange and unique biology compared to even other wizards.

After reading through the medical file, compiled and put into more no-maj friendly terms by Hermione over the years, Steve had looked at him curiously and asked, "So that's why you always just throw everything away when you cut yourself while making dinner?"

"All of that and this is what you come out swinging with?"

"Oh it's weird. You're really messed up, but there's nothing you or I can do about it now so why bother?"

"How are you not bothered by this? I'm a-"

"We know a guy that more than doubles his mass and turns green when he's mad. So you put on a light show and blow up a city. You can, but you choose not to. You choose to lock yourself away because you don't want to hurt anyone. You can't help that. No more than Bruce can help when Hulk gets the itch to go smashing. We just need to figure out how to redirect it. Who knows, maybe Stark can build something to collect all that extra energy you put out and use it to power some crazy machine."

After that, they had a really long conversation about Harry's inability to simply just communicate. And Steve made him call Hermione to apologize and admit she had been right once he found out about THAT conversation.

As it stood now though...

Steve had just come back to the apartment, telling Harry they might as well turn the spare room into a home office or something already.

Three nights after that found Harry on his back with a pillow under his hips and hands pressed firmly against the headboard to keep his head from slamming into it with each punishing thrust.

So when he found all motion below his waist and all the attention Steve had been paying him had ceased, he whined like a spoiled brat and bucked his hips and encourage his very fit and very enthusiastic partner to resume. And when the man didn't, he lifted his head and glared at him, only to find a blue fluorescent cat sitting on his stomach, licking its paws and blinking at him. And Steve staring at it in confusion. Just as it opened its mouth to speak, music burst from a pile of clothes on the floor beside the bed.

Harry's head flopped back onto the pillows with a loud groan as he only half listened to the patronus message while Steve had pulled away to fish out his phone. The mood killed. The moment gone. And both men really frustrated. By the time Steve got off the phone, Harry had climbed out of bed, grabbed some towels, and headed for the shower all while grumbling under his breath about the stupid universe and stupid destinies and other things that honestly didn't make much sense.

Steve wasn't far behind him.

**o0o**

It wasn't until they were in the quinjet that Tony noticed someone was missing.

"Where's Harry?"

Natasha glanced to Steve, who subtly shook his head. So she spoke up. "Guess he had something better to do," she said. "He's been working another case with Steve's friend Sam from time to time."

"Great," Tony said sarcastically, looking to Clint. "Looks like your babysitter isn't coming-"

"Hey!"

"So try not to get yourself killed before we nab the sceptre."

**o0o**

"And Steve's not coming because?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Sam. He got the call to assemble seconds after my source sent me the intel about Barnes. Now strap up and lets go. We haven't got all day and I'm not fond of Belarus this time of year. From the way things sounded he's not going to be there for long."

"I forgot how bitchy you get when you're tired. How the hell does Steve put up with you?"

Harry shrugged, tossing a wand from hand to hand just to keep them busy. "If you ever find out, let me know. The man has the patience of a saint."


End file.
